The Games We Play
by tigbunholic
Summary: Barnaby doesn't need love or compassion. He just needs to get rid of the target. Fic for Ouropornos and dedicated to Galiko.


Barnaby wishes he could just kill the little prick now and be done with it.

He hates standing behind the counter, smiling and bowing to every teenage boy who shoves a bill in his face and asks for change. He would have preferred to track the target down someplace else—a restaurant, a movie theater, a museum—anything would have been better than this.

Various bings and pings, lights flashing, laughter, shouting, it all echoes throughout the dimly lit building. He hears a kid brag about his high score in a random shooting game that Barnaby has never heard of. Barnaby thinks it's ridiculous to brag about something so trivial. He has shot and killed more human beings than this kid would ever kill videogame aliens or whatever the fuck the kid is shooting at.

He hears a shout of triumph from across the room and it takes sheer willpower not to pull out his gun and splatter the kid's brains against the glossy screen. It would be easy enough. The kid wasn't powerful. He was simply a NEXT with the ability to inflict people with intense feelings of empathy. He was starting a movement. A group of NEXT and their supporters would demand to be treated as equals, as normal people with normal lives. But that was bullshit. There was nothing normal about NEXT. Barnaby knew this as a fact because he was one of them.

Empathy, compassion, ordinary…

Who the fuck needed that shit?

Barnaby adjusts his glasses and blinks serious green eyes when his target laughs and flings an arm over his friend's shoulder. He watches with interest when the friend smiles and scoots closer to him. To a person not giving a damn, it's just two pals goofing off. But Barnaby knows better. His target and the target's friend are more than that.

For a moment Barnaby thinks that it would be awful to have to live the rest of your life knowing your lover is dead. He feels this way without needing his target shoving any of his empathy hocus pocus on him. Barnaby has done a lot of awful things in his life, but he is no monster. He knows what he must do. The choice is rather obvious.

He has to kill the target's lover, too.

Barnaby drums his fingers against the counter. He's tired of waiting, but he can't make a move until the target gets up to leave for the night. He continues to stare at the kid and his lover, mildly fascinated by their subtle gestures.

Who do they think they're fooling?

Barnaby grows tense when he feels something slide against his leg. He looks down and sees amber eyes staring up at him. They are deceiving, those eyes. They look soft, warm. But they're not. Kotetsu used to wear red contact lenses until Barnaby made him get rid of them.

He looked like a fucking idiot.

"What are you doing, old man?" Barnaby mutters through grit teeth.

Kotetsu is just another one of Mr. Maverick's goons. Hired muscle, all brawn and absolutely no brains. But what Kotetsu lacks in intelligence he makes up for with a skillful tongue and thick cock.

Barnaby waits for Kotetsu to answer, but the other man doesn't. He's sitting there on the floor, behind the counter so no one can see him. He smirks up at Barnaby and slides a hand up Barnaby's leg.

Barnaby glares at him. Kotetsu is older than Barnaby by at least ten years. Barnaby has never known Kotetsu's real age. No one has. Well, Barnaby supposed that Kotetsu knew his own age, but he wasn't letting in on the secret. It wasn't an easy one to guess. Kotetsu looked good for his age, whatever age that was. His skin was golden, abs tight, hair brown, soft, even if it was smashed down by a hat most of the time, like tonight.

A grunt slips from Barnaby's lips when Kotetsu palms his flaccid cock through his pants. He scowls at the other man, cursing under his breath when Kotetsu uses his long legs to kick Barnaby's own legs further apart. Kotetsu is still smirking up at Barnaby, his trademark facial hair cut to resemble the rounded head and pointy ears of twin cats. Barnaby dreams of shaving off that ridiculous beard. He daydreams of a furious clean shaven Kotetsu slamming him against Mr. Maverick's desk and fucking him until it hurts.

Kotetsu yanks down Barnaby's zipper with ease. When Barnaby attempts a step backward, Kotetsu shoves his hand inside Barnaby's pants and squeezes his cock. It doesn't feel good and that's what feels good about it.

Kotetsu squeezes again and pulls his arm in toward his chest. Barnaby has no choice but to follow after it. He's not a stranger to pain, but he doesn't want to spend the rest of his night at an arcade with a sore dick. Kotetsu lets go of Barnaby's cock and tugs the younger man's pants down to his ankles.

Barnaby attempts to look dignified when he slumps over the counter. His cock is hard, the tip slick from his own pre-cum. He can feel Kotetsu's breath ghosting over it, but he won't suck it. He just sits there, chuckling darkly when Barnaby attempts to shove it inside his mouth and misses.

Barnaby rakes his nails across the counter when something wet, but not wet enough, forces its way into his ass. He's still slumped over the counter, still watching his target, still waiting to make his move. But Kotetsu is making things difficult. Kotetsu's job is to back him up in case things take a turn for the worse, so why he decided to hide behind a counter and finger fuck Barnaby's ass, Barnaby would never know.

The annoying ringing bells and flashing neon lights of someone gaining a new high score are loud enough to disguise Barnaby's moan when Kotetsu shoves his middle and index fingers into him while finally, _finally_, sliding his warm mouth over the tip of Barnaby's cock.

Of course it is at that exact time a pimple-faced teen approaches Barnaby at the counter. He lays a few bills down in front of Barnaby and stares at him expectantly.

Kotetsu takes more of him into his hot, greedy, mouth and Barnaby feels like his knees are about to give out. The teen continues to stare at him, impatience etched along the red connect-the-dots blemishes, marring his face like herpes. Barnaby thinks about the ink pen mere inches away from his curled fingers. Even without closing his eyes, he can imagine himself embedding it into the teen's eye. He'd be happy to do it. He _wants_ to do it. Instead, he takes the teen's money and gives him change for the machine. As the teen walks away, Barnaby hopes the boy is a NEXT who makes Mr. Maverick's list. He doesn't know the boy's name, but he never forgets a face.

Not unless Mr. Maverick wants him to.

Barnaby gasps and shuts his eyes. His entire dick is in Kotetsu's mouth. He hears the other man gag and it's enough to make Barnaby cum, or it would have been enough if Kotetsu hadn't stopped.

Without a word, Kotetsu slides away from the counter and stands. He's a couple of inches taller than Barnaby, but no one seems to notice him. Barnaby finds that fact rather strange since he's the only person dressed in dress pants, a dress shirt, a tie, and a vest. People like that don't just blend in with guys who are just discovering what hand plus dick equals.

Barnaby manages to be discreet when he bends down to pull up his pants. The bastard, Kotetsu, hadn't bothered to pull them back up. When he is once again upright, he catches a glimpse of Kotetsu's back as he disappears into the men's restroom.

Barnaby knows this is just another part of the game they're playing. If he leaves his post, he risks losing the target. If he loses the target, he'll have to explain why to Mr. Maverick. If his explanation does not satisfy Mr. Maverick… Well, he didn't want to go down that road again.

Ever.

But it's been at least a week since they last fucked and Barnaby craves it. He glances back at his target and tells himself that the kid will still be there when he returns. Moving away from the counter, Barnaby follows Kotetsu's path to the restroom. After pushing open the door, he steps inside and is immediately assaulted by a strong hand around his neck. He grunts when his back slams against the wall next to the door and he lifts his arm, reels it back, and backhands his attacker.

Kotetsu stares at him and licks the corner of his own lip where it stings from Barnaby's nails catching it. "That wasn't very nice, Lil' Bunny."

"Stop fucking calling me that," Barnaby says, but he doesn't mean it. He has long gotten used to that nickname. He used to view it as an insult when he was younger. Kotetsu thought it was amusing to call him a bunny back when Barnaby thought it was cooler to fight his enemies—kicking and hopping around—rather than blowing their brains out.

But Barnaby was all grown up now.

"I'll call you whatever I want," Kotetsu replies and he grabs Barnaby by his hair though his hood, forces him to turn around, and shoves him back against the wall. "I bet your mark has already left," he says as he yanks Barnaby's pants down.

"If he has, I'll just have to kill you instead. Any NEXT's head will do."

"Mm, you could," Kotetsu replies. "But your sex life would become rather boring, Bunny." Before Barnaby can reply, Kotetsu spreads the younger man's ass and slides his cock inside.

Barnaby is relieved that it slips in without problem. Kotetsu had been smart enough to bring lube or something slippery that felt like lube. He shouts when Kotetsu presses himself against Barnaby's back, driving his cock impossibly deep inside Barnaby's ass.

"So loud," Kotetsu breathes against Barnaby's ear. "I love it when you scream, Bunny."

"S-Shut up," Barnaby demands. He doesn't want to hear Kotetsu's voice. He only wants to hear to the sound of their breathing. He wants to listen to Kotetsu's moans and grunts, to his own whimpers, to the sound of skin, slick from sweat, smacking against skin.

Kotetsu slams into repeatedly, rough and hard. It's startling how incredible it feels. It borders back and forth between the thin line of pain and pleasure. Barnaby reaches backward and grips Kotetsu's hip in an attempt to slow down the older man's thrusts, but Kotetsu grabs his arm and pins it against Barnaby's back. With only one free hand available, Barnaby uses it to place against the wall to level himself. He hears Kotetsu snort and lets out a cry of protest when Kotetsu pins that arm next to the other.

Barnaby's face presses against the wall and he cringes. He cannot imagine what soiled piss and cum-stained hands have touched that wall, but Kotetsu is so deep and hard and throbbing inside of him that it doesn't really matter.

Kotetsu floods Barnaby's ass when he cums. Barnaby feels the sticky warmth sliding from him, down his crack and the back of his thighs. He feels disgusting, like a filthy slut and his dick twitches at the thought. Kotetsu can be a bastard, but he cares enough to drag Barnaby to the sink and lift him onto it. The porcelain is cold against Barnaby's pale ass, a high contrast between how hot Kotetsu's mouth is. It doesn't take long for him to reach his own orgasm, pumping his thick cum into Kotetsu's mouth. Kotetsu swallows it all and continues to suck even when there is nothing left. The sensitivity of it all is too much for Barnaby and he reaches up to shove Kotetsu away.

Kotetsu chuckles and wipes his mouth. He shoves his limp dick back into the zipper hole in his pants and zips them up. Barnaby scowls at him when he sees that Kotetsu hadn't bothered to pull down his own pants.

"Go make sure the target is still there," Barnaby orders and tries his best not to sound like he has just finished getting fucked in an arcade bathroom.

"Yes, sir," Kotetsu replies and walks out, leaving Barnaby half naked and still sitting on the sink.

When Barnaby is able to compose himself enough to stand, he steps into a stall to clean himself off. He tosses a couple of globs of now sticky tissues into the toilet, flushes it, and then pulls up his pants. As he steps out of the open stall, he sees the same pimple faced kid staring at him with a look of disgust. He slips his hand inside of his hoody and pulls out his gun. Before the kid can speak, Barnaby hits him in the head with the butt of the gun. The boy falls to the ground with a heavy thump. He isn't dead, but he'll be in a shitload of pain when he wakes up.

Barnaby leaves the restroom and catches Kotetsu talking to the target as they exit the front door. Barnaby curses and rushes through the crowd, wanting to get to the exit as quickly as possible. He steps outside about a minute after Kotetsu just in time to have Kotetsu's gun pointed in his direction. He flinches ever so slightly when the trigger is pulled and someone shouts and falls behind him. Barnaby turns to see the kid from before, the target's lover, lying on the ground. His arms are as big as boulders, but are slowly decreasing in size.

So he was a NEXT too, apparently.

There's another shot and Barnaby turns back to see the target crumpling to the ground. "You need to be more focused, Bunny. That kid almost smashed your head to bits," Kotetsu says.

"Shut up and walk," Barnaby replies. He knows it will only be a matter of time before someone discovers the bodies or wonders what those two loud bangs were.

They leave their dead target and his equally dead lover lying where they fell and get into Kotetsu's car. Kotetsu starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. Barnaby can't help but to glance back over to where the two dead NEXTs lay. He runs his hand down the back of his head, which is still covered by the hoodie. It's wet from the lover's blood. Barnaby groans and pulls the hood down. For a second he wonders how the target felt the moment he saw his lover fall. He imagines it's an indescribable type of pain. From the corner of his eye, he watches Kotetsu driving and fiddling with the stereo.

Empathy and compassion, huh?

He was much better off without it.


End file.
